Incelbordination, Chapter 7

The sun set on a dreadful Friday and Oswald couldn’t have been more grateful. In its place was a beautiful Saturday morning, complete with sleeping until noon and all the weed he could smoke in one sitting. He still hadn’t decided whether or not he wanted to torch the C- laden paper. He figured maybe he should’ve dragged his little ass out of bed to make those necessary corrections. Then again, correcting things never helped him in the past. Those C’s still gazed into his soul every time he laid eyes on them. Perhaps a nice walk in the afternoon sunshine would do him a few favors here and there.

MP3 player? Check. Ready roll? Check. Zippo? Double check, motherfucker. He certainly wouldn’t have accepted another book of matches from Antero no matter how desperately he needed them. Once the trench coat was on and “Lonesome Town” by Ricky Nelson soothed his aching ears, Oswald headed for the streets without telling his roommates goodbye. Then again, they wouldn’t have noticed even if he did.

The streets were nearly empty at this time of day. Normally people would be partying it up on a Saturday. Either that or Oswald was just as ignorant of other people as they were of him. As soon as those negative, lonely thoughts crept in his mind, he pulled out his ready roll. Even with his Zippo clearly in the palm of his fucking hand, he could hear a familiar voice from behind asking him if he needed a light. “Oh no….oh hell no…” the dwarf moaned while shaking his head.

He pulled off the headsets and turned around to see Antero Magnus holding a book of matches. “Well, it’s Groundhog Day…again,” joked the Incel.

“You motherfucker!” shouted Oswald. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t punch you in the dick right now! You trying to get me in trouble or some shit?! You knew what you were doing when you gave me that gift card, you sick prick!”

“You’re right!” retorted Antero as he leaned down to meet Oswald’s eyes. “I knew exactly what I was doing. I was trying to teach you a lesson. You didn’t even need an ass-load of tuition money to learn that.”

“You ain’t helping your case, buddy! I’ve still got one more punch in me and it’s aimed at your….”

“Listen to me, damn it!” snapped Antero. “I know you’re upset and you damn well should be. Those girls who hang out at Mickey D’s are underage, yes, they are. They’re young, naïve, immature…and yet they’re the only girls in this world who find us attractive.” Oswald’s fighting stance eased up at that statement. “Think about this for a minute. Our one safe haven for finding love and the government outlaws it. Tell me again how everything’s not stacked against us.”

“So you’re mad because you can’t fuck little girls?”

Antero stood up and sighed. “Obviously, I’m not getting through to you. Take a walk with me for a minute. I’ve got something to show you.”

“Let me guess: you’re going to introduce me to your dead Uncle Tuomas? Yeah, that’s right. I almost got sent to jail over what you put me through. The cop who picked me up told me all about your Uncle Tuomas! I bet you’ve got an Aunt Floor Jansen and a Grandma Anette Olzon too!”

Antero chuckled, “I never get tired of hearing those Nightwish jokes. But yes, it’s true: I’m of Finnish descent and my Uncle Tuomas is dead as a doornail. But I’m willing to bet you anything the cop only gave you the Cliff’s Notes version of what happened. Cliff’s Notes are good, but not in a college setting where C-‘s are staring you in the face with a murderous grin. Come with me. Let me set you straight.”

From there the two of them had a brief walk to the local cemetery. Oswald never let Antero out of his sight in case the sly bastard had a knife he couldn’t wait to coat with midget blood. For the most part, the incel leader seemed sincere in his gestures. And then shit got real when the two of them approached Tuomas Magnus’s grave. The poor guy died young, as was the case of a lot of suicide victims. The cold hard fact wasn’t lost on Antero when he removed his sunglasses and gazed down at the grave with sadness etched in his features.

“Oswald, I want you to pay close attention to something I’m about to point out to you.” The incel pointed at various graves and said, “Bouquet of roses” to each of them. “Now I want you to take a look at Tuomas’s grave and tell me what you see.”

“…No roses.”

“That’s right, Oswald. Nobody bothered to leave him one single rose. Not my deadbeat dad. Not my bitch ass mom. Not anybody in the community, in fact. They all gave up on him. They bought into the rape charge bullshit like it was the word of god. The police will tell you that they had more than enough evidence to press charges. Then again, the police have never been trustworthy to begin with. They can delete body camera footage at the drop of a hat. They can beat and shoot anybody they damn well please and get a paid vacation for it. Uncle Tuomas was just another victim of this unjust system. One little girl cried rape and now everybody descended upon him with pitchforks and torches.”

Oswald sighed, hung his head, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, I get how fucked up false rape accusations can be, but what does your dead uncle have to do with me?”

Physically leveling with his “friend” yet again, Antero said, “Well, you’ve seen the lack of roses on Tuomas’s grave. Tell me: who’s going to leave roses on your grave when you die?” Oswald’s face grew solemn. “I’d leave them, but I might not be around for much longer if this police investigation keeps up. How long do you think you have left on this earth, Oswald, before the Chads and Stacys cripple you to death? Three years? Maybe four? You’re a young man. Young men with English degrees don’t do well in this piss-poor economy. The only other option you’d have left is to marry a woman with money. The only question is…who’s going to want to blow their trust fund on you, Oswald?”

Wiping a solitary tear from his eye, Oswald mustered up, “I have a few friends…”

“A few? I’m sorry, Oswald, but a few doesn’t make up an entire funeral congregation. You’re lonely and you don’t want to admit it. You have nobody you can turn to in this world. Not your teachers, not your so-called friends who’ll backstab you in a heartbeat…not even your dead parents.”

The dwarf gazed up at Antero with tears pooling in his eyes. “Is my Face Book profile that obvious?”

“More obvious than an anvil falling out of the sky, my friend.” Just as Oswald was about to burst into an ugly sob, Antero held his shoulders and said, “It’s true. I know all about your parents’ deaths. I’ll never forget that angry rant you posted. Your mom and dad were killed by a drunk driver. But instead of giving that Night Train-drinking bastard lethal injection, the judge gave him a few years at most because of his sudden love for Jesus Christ. The cops can arrest us anytime they want. But what if we just made up the Jesus Christ excuse once the heat got too hot? Together, we can change the world. Together, we can show the Chads and Stacys that they don’t run shit anymore.”

Antero extended his hand to shake and all Oswald could do was stare at it with tears falling from his face. He then slapped the hand away and hugged his newfound friend around the neck. The incel leader awkwardly hugged him back and allowed the dwarf to cry on his shoulder.

“Let it all out, little guy. Let it all out. Incelbordination is here for you. The cops don’t give a shit about you. The Stacys don’t give a shit about you. But I do. Come join us for a support session. You can talk all about your feelings and eat fast food until your belly explodes. Maybe you can smoke that joint and get hungry for some more food. A Quarter Pounder with Cheese won’t judge you.”

Oswald broke his embrace and wiped his tears on his trench coat sleeve. Nodding, he said, “Count me in, Antero. Don’t leave me out here with these normies.”

“I knew you’d see the light one of these days, my friend. It was a foregone conclusion since the day you were born into this fucked up world.”

Incelbordination, Chapter 6

“You know, for somebody who has a lot of shit to talk about, you’re certainly taking your time in starting the conversation,” said Oswald with his arms crossed.

“It’s called making you sweat,” explained Detective Barry. “From the looks of how I found you, I figured you’d be sweating bullets right now. That’s okay, we can wait a little longer.”

Oswald nervously fidgeted with his fingernails while Mia remained cool behind the wheel of her car. The little guy noticed that they’d passed his dorm several times during this ride. His only haven for smoking weed and shaking off the jailbait blues was a short walk away and all this detective wanted to do was wait for him to break. Oswald picked at his fingernails some more until they were too short to do so. Next he picked at his hangnails. Then he picked skin off of his chapped lips.

With nothing left to fidget with and a big enough craving for marijuana, Oswald finally snapped. “Alright, what the hell do you want from me anyways? Do I need a lawyer or some shit?”

“I’m not sure, Mr. Crow, do you? Is there a secret you’re trying to protect from me? I haven’t even said a word yet and already you’re asking for legal counsel. What’s on your mind, buddy?”

Oswald put his balled up fist in his mouth and made Marcellus Wallace pawn shop noises from Pulp Fiction, which gave Mia a good chuckle. “So you’re a comedian now? I didn’t think someone as sad as you had a sense of humor in them.”

The dwarf made a flat tire sound and said, “Sad? Come on, you’re better than this, Detective.”

“Better than what, exactly? Are you saying I don’t do my own research? Are you projecting yourself onto me when you imply that? I’ve seen your creative writing grade, buddy. I’ve seen a lot of things about you.”

“Great, first Antero’s a fucking stalker and now you.” Oswald immediately cupped his mouth shut upon revealing his “associate’s” name.

“Ah-ha! I knew it!” said Mia while pointing a finger at her passenger. “There is something going on with you and Antero Magnus.”

“…Who?”

“Oh, nothing. I just figured since you blurted out a random Finnish name that you’d probably know at least one guy who fits that profile.” Oswald was mentally kicking himself for his blunder while Mia continued. “I’m not stupid, Mr. Crow. I know more about this case than you’ll ever figure out in your lifetime. Yes, in case you haven’t figured it out, there’s a case being built against Antero Magnus. We don’t have much to go on, but we’ve got hunches here and there. Word of advice, little guy: stay as far away from Incelbordination as you possibly can.”

Shaking his head, Oswald retorted, “You don’t have to tell me twice, lady. I already know how much of a scumbag he is.”

“Oh, really? Is that why you happened to be eating outside McDonald’s instead of inside where there’s air conditioning?”

“Aw, shit,” said Oswald while holding his head in his hand. “Well, if you’ve really seen everything, you’d know that I didn’t do shit while I was out there. I gave that chick the food and then I took off. I swear that’s all that happened.”

“Don’t worry, I believe you. What I don’t believe is that you had that idea all by yourself. Antero’s pulling your strings, buddy. I know it. I’ve had to arrest a few of his Incelbordination minions for actually going through with the business deal. The one thing they all had in common was a McDonald’s gift card. Anybody can have one, but when you spend thirty dollars on supposedly just yourself, that’s awfully suspicious.”

Oswald slapped his palms against his knees and asked, “What do you want from me?”

“You don’t have to give me anything, Oswald, except for maybe a promise that you won’t join Incelbordination. Even then I don’t think I’d be able to sleep at night. The thing about Antero’s logic is that it’s seductive to young people like you. It was designed to be seductive. It’s easier to use women as scapegoats rather than face your own problems head on. It’s convenient. The only problem is, when you take that black pill, you might as well be chugging bleach. If you join Incelbordination, Antero will radicalize you until there’s nothing left of your ability to think for yourself.”

Oswald tucked his chin to his chest and said, “I’m not worth saving, Detective.”

“See? That’s the kind of talk I’d expect from a young man who’s become indoctrinated. Involuntary Celebates, or Incels, are all brought together by their low self-esteem. They’re so convinced that they’re ugly that they lash out at the wrong people. Person-to-person, the only way you could ever be ugly is if you allowed yourself to be brainwashed by these people.”

Folding his arms, Oswald sighed, “Inner beauty doesn’t mean shit anymore, Detective. If it did, I wouldn’t have had the shit kicked out of me in high school and middle school. Being a midget isn’t fun and there’s nothing humorous about it. If I didn’t learn how to box, I’d probably be dead right now. That’s how bad shit has gotten. I don’t want to be a violent person, but these normies are putting me in a situation where it’s either me or them.”

“I’m sensing that you don’t have a whole lot of role models in your life,” said Mia solemnly.

“You are very, very perceptive, Detective Barry. Then again, you wouldn’t be a very good cop if you weren’t.”

Putting an empathetic hand on Oswald’s shoulder, Mia said, “Look, I know you haven’t had the easiest life, as you’ve just described. You’re desperate for someone to show you the way. I’m telling you right now, that someone isn’t Antero Magnus. He doesn’t care about you or your need for love. He cares only about his own violent agenda. Please, promise me that you won’t go anywhere near him.”

“I can promise I won’t go anywhere near him, but I can’t promise he won’t go anywhere near me. I don’t seek him out on purpose, you know.”

“I know you don’t, Mr. Crow. I know how sneaky he can be. And just to give you a heads up, if Antero ever does bother you again, he’s going to bring up his deceased Uncle Tuomas and use him for a sympathy ploy.”

“So his uncle was the keyboardist for Nightwish?”

Mia patted Oswald on the back and chuckled. “Oh, Mr. Crow, you slay me. But on a serious note, anybody who has ever joined Incelbordination knows about the Uncle Tuomas card. Antero is going to tell you that he committed suicide because he was falsely accused of rape and therefore lost his reputation. While false accusations happen far too often for my comfort, this time our police work was right on the money. Don’t let Antero spin it in any other direction. You can research this story yourself if you don’t believe me. Oh, I forgot, you’re not known for your research skills. But hey, this time it’s important.”

“Look, Detective, I appreciate your concern about my wellbeing, but if you’re not going to charge me with any serious offense, then I suggest you take me to my dorm. I’m not exactly feeling the love right now.”

“Understandable,” said Mia. “But I’m just going to give you fair warning right now: if you join Incelbordination and you do something illegal under their watch, I’ll have no choice but to arrest you as a terrorist. Terrorists get worse treatment under the law than regular criminals, which is a fucking disgrace to our justice system considering how many innocent Middle Easterners are in Guantanamo Bay, but that’s beside the point. The point is, if you think you’re going to cure your loneliness by joining Incelbordination, then you need to quickly realize you’ll only make it worse.”

Just like that, the joyride was over and Mia parked outside Oswald’s dorm building. The little guy wasted no time in getting out of the car and hurrying to his door, but not without shaking his head at Mia telling him to, “Have a nice evening.”

He rushed to his bedroom and scrambled for a ready roll in his underwear drawer. Low and behold, he finally found his Zippo lighter. He smiled insanely at the hardware before scurrying outside for a smoke. He shifted his eyes left and right to make sure neither Mia Barry nor Antero Magnus were going to sneak up on him. He even made abrasive “booga-booga-booga” noises just to make sure it was only him and the night air. Once he was one hundred percent certain the coast was clear, he leaned back against the wall and lit up his joint.

Relaxation took over his body as he gently slid down on his ass enjoying his smoke. How he loved this magic medicine and the way it made the night sky look like a Pink Floyd laser show. He needed this private time to himself. He needed his beautiful weed. Tomorrow was Saturday, which meant he had all the time in the world to sort out his problems. Maybe he would fix up his C- paper, maybe he would just set the fucking thing on fire now that he found his Zippo. Either way, Oswald needed this weekend like any other stressed out college student did.